Guys & Dogs

by Elaine Fox

  He stepped back and she entered. He started to close the door behind her. Before it latched she said, “Oh, wait wait.” Then she bent one eye to the crack between the door and the jamb to watch the cabby drive off. With a triumphant laugh she closed it all the way and turned back to Sutter.

  “Megan…have you been drinking?”

  She grinned. “Well, yes, a little. I only wanted to see the cab drive off. He didn’t believe I knew you, see. I think he thought I wouldn’t get in the door.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Did you have some sort of wager with him?”

  Her face fell. “No. Shoot. You’re right, I should have put some money on it. He was totally sure I was one of your computer geek groupies.”

  Sutter’s brows rose.

  “Not that that would be so bad,” she amended quickly. “I just…don’t know much about computers. And I’m not a groupie.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched upward. “What are you, then?”

  “Well, I’m glad you asked. I decided in the cab,” she threw a hand toward the door to the street, illustrating where the cab had been, “that I was a friend. Because friends are people who know each other intimately, in some way. And you and I…well, that is I…” Too late, she saw where she herself was heading, and a blush hit her cheeks, hard.

  To her surprise, he laughed. Deep dimples lined each side of his mouth and those green eyes actually sparkled. She found herself smiling in return.

  “So where’s Twister?” she asked.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I wondered how long it would be before you asked. She’s in the yard. She likes it out there, even if the new gardener doesn’t.”

  “She doesn’t stay out there all the time?” She frowned.

  He scoffed. “Hardly. Any more than an hour or two and she’d actually reach China.”

  Megan laughed, putting a hand to her mouth, and momentarily lost her balance. Sutter reached a hand out but she righted herself before he could help her. She was afraid with just one touch she’d feel compelled to jump him.

  “Can I get you some coffee?” he asked, with a slight but solicitous bow.

  She took a deep breath, put a hand to her blush-hot forehead and said, “That would be great.”

  She followed him into the most gorgeous kitchen she’d ever seen. It took up the whole back side of the house and had every kind of stainless-steel appliance invented. Despite that, it was cozy, with dark wood beams, a wooden pot rack suspended over the stove, deep ochre walls and warm amber granite counter tops. She loved it instantly.

  “Do you even know how to make coffee?” she teased, watching him pull an espresso maker from against the wall.

  He slid her a look. “Oh ye of little faith. I am a master coffee maker.”

  Sure enough, he served up a cup of French roast and even steamed the cream so it resembled a latte. “Sugar?” he asked, holding up a sugar pot.

  “Thanks, honey,” she grinned, reaching for it.

  He narrowed his eyes but a chuckle escaped.

  To her delight, he sat down across from her at the thick, country kitchen table, folded his hands together on the surface in front of him, and they chatted. About nothing, about everything. About his gift to the SPCA. “Just a little cleanup PR,” he said sheepishly.

  Before she knew it she felt relatively sober, but could not stop looking at the turn of his lips when he smiled, the fine crows’ feet that spread from the corners of his eyes, and the sexy way his hair was slightly disheveled.

  She also couldn’t keep her eyes from his hands. She remembered so well how they’d touched her most private places, how skilled they were in manipulating every nerve ending in her body. Square and large-knuckled, they were strong hands, yet deft. She imagined one of them sliding down her hip to her thigh, then over to her moist, hot arousal…she remembered how he’d kissed her, then taken her nipple between those sculpted lips and pulled, creating torrents of fire and light and energy and thrill along every single pore of her skin.

  Thinking about it she almost couldn’t breathe, and she found herself taking a sharp inhale when his tongue brushed out briefly to wet his lips.

  “Megan.”

  Her eyes shot up to his. They seemed to glow in the dim light of the cozy kitchen.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, leaning forward a bit onto his elbows.

  “Yes,” she murmured, gazing squarely into those mossy green eyes. Her own dropped to his mouth, and she rose up on her feet, put her hands in the middle of the table, and leaned toward him.

  He stood and met her halfway, their lips colliding over the sugar pot. Their tongues sought each other and whirled together, deepening the kiss, drawing their mouths even closer, seeming to make their breath, their faces, their thoughts, one.

  Megan put one knee on the table and pushed closer, until she was kneeling on the surface, pressing her body against his. His arms came around her tightly and the warmth of his body radiated through his thin cotton shirt. His hands, those strong, square hands skimmed under her skimpy tee shirt and slid up her back. She sighed into his mouth. She knew it would feel good to be touched. She knew what she’d needed was this, skin on skin, breath on breath, desire on desire.

  And what she needed now was him inside of her.

  She sank lower on her knees and pulled him down with her. Placing one hand on the table, she felt the sugar pot overturn and decided to ignore it. A second later he was putting a knee onto the table himself and pushing his hands into her hair as he laid her down on her back and kissed her thoroughly.

  Her fingers went for the buttons of his shirt and nimbly undid them. He began to pull up her tee and she arched for him to pull it to her shoulders, then raised her head as he swung it off. God only knew where it landed.

  His hands cupped her breasts in their lace cups, let them fill his palms and looked at them, his eyes glowing. “You are…” he murmured, leaning down to run his tongue along her cleavage, “incredible.” He reached around her back, she arched again, and he unclasped the bra, sending it off with the shirt.

  She pushed his shirt along his arms and down his back. “Your turn,” she said, her eyes raking his chest, well-defined pecs, trim stomach, with that sandy line of hair pointed downward…

  Then she went for his shorts. They came off easily, as did her little cotton skirt, and then they were naked on top of the table. Megan could feel sugar sticking to her back and her upper arms like sand and had a thrilling From Here to Eternity moment.

  He leaned over her, kissed her once, then smiled down. “Don’t you look delicious,” he said mildly, “here on my kitchen table.”

  “Hope you’re not watching your sweets.” She ran one finger through the scattered white granules on the table and held it up to him.

  He took it in his mouth and she gasped at the sensation. She grabbed the back of his head. He tasted of sugar when she kissed him.

  “Do I need…?” He paused, kissed her again. “I have protection.”

  She pulled him down and kissed him deeply. “It’s all right,” she whispered against his lips, moving her head so that her lips brushed lightly along his. “Don’t worry.”

  Their tongues twined again, and just as she’d imagined he ran one hand down her side, then between her thighs to part the hair that was so damp with desire. His fingers caressed her and she sighed, lifting her hips into his hand. When his lips found her breast at the same time, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven.

  But she hadn’t seen nothin’ yet. His mouth made its way down her body, over her belly button and down…lower…then lower still. He flicked her with his tongue, then sucked, and Megan’s hips rose high, her body electric with the sensations.

  Minutes later, just as she was on the verge of spiraling out of control, he pulled himself away and slid her gently to the end of the table. Sugar grated beneath her and made her giggle. He sucked one shoulder and murmured close in her ear, “So sweet.”

  Parting her legs aroun
d him, he ran the head of his rock-hardness along her desire. So ready for him, it was all she could do not to grab him and envelop him with her heat.

  She crossed her ankles behind his back and pulled him gently with her legs. He smiled, his eyes smoky, and lay his hands on her hips. Then he pulled, ever so slowly, until she covered him completely. He gave a low moan.

  She exhaled and arched her head back. “Oh lord.”

  He pulled back a little, then pushed in again, deeper. She felt as if he were touching her soul, so deep was he inside of her. She opened her eyes and found him looking at her face. Reaching down, she took his hands in hers. They clasped, fingers intertwined, and he leaned over her, looking into her eyes, as he thrust, slowly at first, into and out of her. Her hands, still in his, were pinned next to her on the table.

  His rhythm increased. Megan’s heart slammed against her ribcage in time with it. The cords stood out on his neck and she felt his hands tighten, then crush hers in their grip. She squeezed back just as hard, with her hands, with her legs, with her very core.

  Thrust for thrust they met each other’s hips, their lips parted, their eyes locked together, until Megan felt her world blitz apart and she closed her eyes with the overwhelming sensation.

  A second later, Sutter pushed one last time, exhaling long and hard, his body trembling above her.

  They went upstairs to shower together, licking the sugar off each other’s skin as they bumped against one another on the steps. She never thought she’d be able to actually giggle with this man, but here they both were, getting punchier as the night went on in the darkened house.

  His shower had six heads, something she could not get over and found a thousand jokes for. But they soaped each other up with care, and rinsed each other off with relish. He even shampooed her hair. She felt as if she’d been massaged inside and out.

  When they stepped out of the steamy stall, he handed her a thick white robe and wrapped a towel around his waist.

  “Will you be staying the night?” he asked, polite as a bellhop.

  Megan smiled, wondering if she should, doubting it would be wise. She could get too comfortable here and forget all about The Vault. She started to shake her head slowly. “I can’t. I’ve got Peyton to let out and I can’t show up late for work. Bad example, you know.”

  Their eyes met and Sutter looked as if he understood something. Megan wasn’t quite sure what, but resisted an impulse to correct him. Let him think it was she who was holding back, she thought. For God’s sake, for once keep your mouth shut and not be the one whose heart gets taken for granted.

  He nodded and she moved into the bedroom. “I guess my clothes are somewhere in the kitchen.”

  “Somewhere…” He smiled slyly, then added, “Let me get dressed and I’ll give you a ride home.”

  She waved a hand. “No, no, that’s all right. I like the walk.” She needed it to clear her head, if nothing else.

  “Don’t be silly, Megan, it’s late. You can’t walk home alone.”

  She laughed. “Sutter, it’s perfectly safe. It’s a few blocks through,” she spread her arms, “the best neighborhood. I’ll be fine.” She went to him and kissed him softly on the lips. “But thank you.”

  “You are a stubborn one, aren’t you,” he murmured, holding her a moment too long before letting her go.

  “Sometimes.” She slipped away and started for the door before she could change her mind.

  “Megan,” he stopped her.

  She turned, brows raised.

  “This is…well, it’s not brilliant timing, but I was wondering…” He looked disconcerted, which intrigued her. She came back toward him. “About birth control. I didn’t think,” he shrugged haplessly, “last time, and only at the last minute this time. When you said ‘don’t worry’ you meant…?”

  Despite herself, something inside of her stilled.

  “I meant there’s no danger. I’ve been tested and I…can’t get pregnant.” She took a deep breath before adding, “I can’t have children.”

  Then she turned and headed out the door.

  In the end, though he protested a little more, and even tried humorously to keep her from gathering her clothes, she left.

  And she hadn’t seen him since.

  That had been over a week ago. Did he think about her at all, she wondered. And if he did, was it because of anything other than sex? Surely he thought about that night. It had been so incredible for her, she had to believe it was at least good for him.

  But maybe he did that kind of thing frequently. Perhaps with some of the more understanding and less whacko groupies.

  For the thousandth time she thought about that moment he’d asked her if she were staying and wondered what might have happened if she had. Would he have made her breakfast in the morning? Would they have reached some other conclusion than this eight-days-going-on-forever silence? Would it have felt more emotional this time simply to sleep with him, to climb into bed sated and warm from the shower, to curl up and be held by him? Would it have felt less like sex and more like l—

  “Dr. Rose?”

  Megan glanced up to see Allison standing in her office door.

  “Mrs. Walters is still waiting,” Allison said, flipping her hair back and looking hassled at having to tell her again. “With Hildy? Her cat?”

  “I’ll be there in just a minute.” She straightened. “I just need to finish this. Ask her to wait one more second.”

  Allison sighed. “All right.”

  Megan looked down at the paper in front of her, where she’d drawn a series of curlicued Ss and Fs instead of paying the stack of bills beside her. She was losing it. She’d done just exactly what Georgia had warned her not to. She’d fallen for The Vault. Thinking back on their lunch, and even their companionable chat that night in the kitchen—the specifics of which were mostly lost in a tequila haze—she didn’t remember things getting very personal. Except, of course, for the physically personal part.

  But then there was that moment when she’d told him she couldn’t have children. A sinking feeling returned to her stomach at the memory. Something had flashed across his face. Something like pity, or disappointment. Or had she just imagined it? Though she strove with all of her being not to believe it, she wondered if she had blown whatever small chance she might have had with him by revealing that inadequacy.

  Not, she reassured herself, that she considered it an inadequacy. She was who she was, her body was built the way it was built, and that was life. Just…she couldn’t help acknowledging the fact that to someone who really wanted to start a family, who’d perhaps looked forward their whole life to having children, heirs, maybe even to creating a dynasty to quote the National Tattler, it would certainly be a relationship inadequacy. A flaw.

  A deal breaker.

  She sighed. This was silly. She was trying to interpret his feelings without knowing or even asking what they were. Surely she owed it to the situation to find out what was in his head, even if it was not her. She wasn’t asking for a commitment, she wasn’t looking to pin him down, she wasn’t even asking what he thought was in their future. She just wanted to know if he ever wanted to see her again. Didn’t she owe it to herself to ask? Maybe she even owed it to him.

  With a burst of conviction, she pulled the phone book out of the bottom desk drawer. She knew she wouldn’t be able to find his home number but SFSolutions should be listed. Sure enough, she found it in seconds flat. Before she could change her mind she dialed.

  “Good morning!” a loud, chipper voice said, “SFSolutions, Arnetta speaking, how may I help you?”

  “Good morning,” Megan said, wishing she’d thought a moment about what she intended to say. But sometimes impulse dictated the most honest conversations, and she firmly believed that honesty was never a mistake. “Is Sutter Foley in? This is Megan Rose calling.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Foley isn’t in. Can I take a message?” the amplified voice asked. Megan actually had to hold the phone a l
ittle away from her ear when the woman spoke. She wondered briefly if this was the woman who’d come to the SPCA meeting.

  “Yes, please. Let him know I called and…” She thought quickly. “And…that I’d like to see him again, if he’d like it. No pressure, though.” She laughed.

  “Oh, I’ve got it. Anything else?”

  “No, that’ll be all, I guess,” Megan said.

  But her emotions screamed otherwise. Yes! Tell him I miss him inexplicably; tell him that, even though I resisted, I feel something for him; and tell him I’m wondering if he feels anything for me, even just plain desire. But she couldn’t ask that. Not, at least, through his secretary.

  Voicemail! Megan thought.

  “All righty, then, thank you for calling!” the woman chirped and hung up.

  “Damn,” she said out loud to the dead phone line. Should she call back? Or let the message stand? It did say, basically, what she wanted.

  She sighed again. She couldn’t think about this any longer. She had to work, for pity’s sake.

  She rose to her feet. Hildy the cat, she thought, Hildy the cat. What was her problem again?

  Of course, she thought, looking at the chart. The cat was pregnant.

  Sutter leaned back in the wing chair and stared briefly up at the ceiling of Aunt Edna’s sitting room. She was in the restroom with Lucy and would be out in a minute, which was good. It gave him a moment more to collect himself.

  He’d arrived at Sunrise Hills irritated. Just before leaving the office, Arnetta had handed him another handful of incomprehensible messages. Someone wanted to see him if he wanted to see them but Arnetta had put no name on the “From” line; someone claiming to be a “Mr. Smith” was interested in a breakfast meeting but she’d written nothing about why or what company he was with; and someone else, improbably named Frosty, had called for no discernible reason at all.

  He could probably blame his sleeping problems on Arnetta alone, though he’d also been having trouble getting work done since Megan’s visit last week. He truly believed if he could just get some consistent sleep he would be able to stop thinking about Megan in inappropriate ways.